


Trouble, trouble, trouble

by DragonsInWinter



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 16:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2739191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonsInWinter/pseuds/DragonsInWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evelyn Trevelyan found herself bound in a cell with a rushing, flashing pain in her arm and unknown people around her blaming her for... an explosion, was it? Everything was a haze at first, her memory failed her. But when all was explained to her and Evelyn found herself in serious trouble... she almost burst out in a grim laugh. The Maker had indeed a wicked sense of humor, putting her in a situation so accurate to her nickname; Trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble, trouble, trouble

She was trouble. She had always been trouble. Where ever she went, trouble sought her out and stuck to her like a blood leach. Evelyn was not entirely surprised to find herself in a cold and damp cell. A flashing pain rushed through her left arm. For every flush of pain in her arm her surroundings flickered with a bright green light. She looked down at her ironbound wrists, trying and failing to stretch them slightly. _Where am I?_ A gasp of pain escaped her when her hand flashed green once more and a jolting sensation searched itself through every nerve and every fiber of her arm. Eyeing the room she saw four men, soldiers, pointing swords in her direction and their shields at the ready.

_How did I get here?_ She tried to search her mind to find an answer to her unspoken question, but her memory failed her. Every thought and memory she tried to sift through in her mind was either old as the stone beneath her or enveloped in a thick haze. The Conclave. A weak memory of being summoned to the Conclave in an effort to mend the conflict between mages and Templars surfaced in the back of her head. With her history and dealings with any kind of authority Evelyn imagined she had pissed some sour faced ass of a Templar off and that she’d been jailed and chained out of precaution. It had happened more times than she cared to admit.

It did not explain the green-flashing pain in her arm however. It was some kind of magic she figured, but it was not her magic, and it was most certainly not by her doing. The pain numbed her arm slightly for every flicker of green on the walls. She could see that the guards surrounding her was very uneasy. They were no Templars and she was a mage - a mage with an apparent lack of control of magic. Fear came creeping, building a nest in her stomach.

_Maker, they will make me Tranquil!_ The thought numbed her, the pain in her arm became an echo.

A door opened and broke Evelyn’s daze and she lifted her head again to see two women directing their strides towards her. Angry, both of them. Not soldiers, something else, something more. No Templars though, thank the Maker. The fear that had built up in her dulled slightly. Perhaps there was still a chance for her to get out of this with both her head and her magic intact.

One of the two stopped in front of her while the other started to prowl around her. She looked up at the woman in front of her and met a pair of piercing blue eyes set in a pale face framed by vivid red hair and a blue cowl. No doubt she was a rouge, Evelyn thought. There was secrets in the rogues face, plain as day.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you right now, prisoner?” The woman circling her spoke just behind Evelyn, and she could feel her towering over her back. “The conclave is destroyed, everyone that attended is dead. Everyone except for you” disdain and anger soaked the woman’s words. Evelyn’s mind raced, trying to put bits and pieces together. She remembered running from something behind her. There had been a woman there too. A woman wrapped in viciously vivid green light. And then there was pain. In the blink of an eye the woman was in front of Evelyn, grabbing her arm violently putting the flickering arm all but in Evelyn’s face “Explain this!” green flashing before all of them. It had spread, she noticed before the woman shoved her arm away with force. “I can’t” She was honest but the woman’s anger grew even more at her response. “What do you mean you can’t?” She had pitch black hair, scars on her face spoke of fierce encounters and the look she bored into Evelyn would make the most seasoned of men shiver. “I don’t know what it is, or how it got stuck on my arm, I swear”.

The woman launched at her, yelled at her that she was a liar before the rogue broke in and softly shoved her companion back. “We need her, Cassandra”.

Evelyn felt grief. If the conclave had been destroyed it meant a lot of people were dead. People she knew, people she practically grew up with. People she loved. “All those people… I can’t believe it” barely a whisper from her lips.

They explained what they knew about the explosion, about the rifts opening as a result. About the breach… A grim laugh grew in Evelyn’s abdomen. They though she was responsible, that she had caused this whether or not intentionally. They also very politely informed her of the fact that she was dying with each expansion of the breach.

The Maker did indeed have a wicked sense of humor. The heaven was breaking into pieces, demons were flowing in from the fade through rifts and of course she could be sure to find her own bloody arse in the midst of it all. How fitting it was her childhood nickname; Trouble. “Trouble I was, Trouble I am and Trouble I’ll remain” she thought sourly, holding back the instinct to burst into her bitter laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Was she the only one compatible for trouble perhaps, or did the Maker get pleasure in solemnly sending her in trouble’s way?

In the past getting into trouble had not ment a death sentence, or at least she’d been able to avoid it thus far. So Evelyn figured that she might as well do what she could to help Cassandra and apparently the rest of the world out while she could. Now that her last hours were counted and all that. Oh, who did she think she was fooling? She would always help and that was probably what had gotten her into countless encounters of trouble in the first place.

 

* * *

 

 

The strange power from her hand sealed the last rift in front of her and she let out a sigh of relief. Solas, the elven mage complimented her growing skill of sealing rifts and Varric joined in with him. Even Cassandra looked at her with… was that an appreciative look? Evelyn would almost had been flattered if she had not been so exhausted. The others did not notice since she still was standing up straight and proud – it had been a very, very long day and it was starting to take its toll on her. Any other day it would not have felt like she’d exceeded her magical limits, she knew she was strong with magic. Very much so. But now she felt dried up and were they to ask her to cast even the smallest of spells she feared she would not be able to deliver.

“You closed a rift, Lady Cassandra? Well done!” A new voice broke in and silenced the others. Evelyn turned her head to see a man dressed in crimson and black approach Cassandra. Cassandra on the other hand turned to Evelyn “Do not congratulate me, Commander. It was the prisoners doing” she said and gave her a small nod.

“Is it? Well, I hope they’re right about you” He had eyes a warm shade of brown. Curly blonde hair framed an angular and experienced face. A scar traced over the right side of his upper lip towards his nostril. _A handsome man,_ Evelyn thought.  
“We have lost many good men getting you here” he continued with a stern voice. _A handsome, stern Templar man_ she continued her thought. Oh Evelyn Trevelyan had been around more than long enough to spot them out on sight – a very handy knowledge when it came to self-preservation as a mage. This one was most definitely one.  
“You’re not exactly the only one crossing your fingers, ser” he eyed her then, trying to decide what to make of her Evelyn assumed “We will see soon enough, won’t we?” he said as he turned back to Cassandra, showing the way towards the temple.

“Maker watch over you, for all of our sakes” he said as he departed and ran to support one of the injured soldiers. _Stern Templar or no, the man got a very nice backside_ , she chuckled to herself and then braced herself for the next challenge ahead; the Conclave. 


End file.
